Wild Angel (22 page)

"I’d expected you would be coming to tell me your
plans for me, O’Byrne, but so soon?"

The bitterness in her voice hit him like a slap. Ronan,
however, remained resolute.

Aye, she hated him. That he could tell. But even so,
she would still have to listen to reason.

Seeing her now, her damp robe clinging provocatively to
her body, her beautiful face the very picture of outrage, he knew that he
wanted her. Needed her was more the truth of it, Niall’s words haunting him as
much as the stirring memory of her passion.

He needed her as desperately as a drowning man grabbing
for a branch that could save him, though he knew that would give her no
consolation. Yet he hadn’t come to console . . .

"We must talk, Triona. Alone."

"Ha! You’re mad if you think I’ve any desire to be
alone with you." She gestured for Aud to stay. "There’s nothing you
could say to me that isn’t fit for my maid’s ears as well."

"Aye, if my sweeting wants me to stay, I’ll not
leave her!"

Seeing the anger in Aud’s eyes, Ronan knew then that
Triona must have confided in the woman. Sighing, he decided not to argue.

"Very well." He met Triona’s eyes. "I
want you for my wife."

"Your wife, Lord?" Aud exclaimed before
Triona could utter a word. But it was just as well so she had an instant to
recover herself. Her heart felt lodged in her throat, her breath gone
altogether.

He had just said he wanted her, hadn’t he? Jesu,
Mary
and Joseph! Could she have possibly been wrong about
last night?

Triona started at the hard nudge in her ribs, realizing
Aud had hastened to her side. .

"Sweeting, are you just going to stare at the man?
The O’Byrne has asked you to marry him! You must answer!"

"Think of the babe that may have been planted in
your womb before you say anything, Triona." Ronan’s slate gray eyes burned
into hers. "We’ve both a duty now—"

"Duty?" Triona blurted, feeling as if her
whirling emotions had suddenly hit the ground with a terrible thud.

"Aye. I’ve a duty to you as well to take you for
my bride. Last night should never have happened but since it did, we must wed.
I’ll not turn my back on what is right and neither should you."

Fool, fool, fool!
Triona cried to herself, a familiar ache welling inside her.
Duty? Obligation?
She hated those words!
That’s all she had ever been to him, an unwanted burden, a heavy stone around
his neck, an oath given that he wished he’d never sworn.

"You’ve a very short memory, O’Byrne," she
heard herself finally say when Aud nudged her again. "I told you from the
first that I don’t want a husband."

"Things have changed now, Triona. But if it is
your fears about marriage that are clouding your judgment—"

"I never had any fears about marriage!" Her
face burning, Triona clutched her robe more tightly around her. "You and
Niall, aye, and I suppose Maire as well may have thought so but you were all
wrong! If you’d only asked me you would have known sooner that I’ll never marry
until I meet a man who’ll respect me as I am! I’ll never give up my freedom for
anyone and lastly for you, Ronan O’Byrne! You more than anyone else
have
tried to make me something I’m not—the dutiful maiden
who would be more than content to be the dutiful wife. But I’m not Lady Emer
and never will be, so clearly we’re not suited!"

"Then rest assured I will take you just as you
are," Ronan said as vehemently, so determined to have her that he was
willing at that moment to thrust aside his better judgment. "You can do
what you like, be as you like. You can even ride with my men and me on our
raids if you’ve a mind to."

"Ride with you?" Her incredulous laugh echoed
around the room. "Do you think I’m such a simpleton that I would fall for
your lies again?"

"It’s not a lie, Triona. As soon as we’re wed, you
will see that this time I speak the truth."

Incensed that he would so blatantly try to deceive her
to satisfy his own damnable sense of duty, Triona was tempted to tell him
exactly what she thought of his promise. But suddenly another idea struck her,
an idea that almost made her smile in spite of her fury.

Why not deceive him as well? She had long wanted to
teach him a lesson and now he deserved one more than ever.

If she could win herself some time by leading him to
believe there was a way she might wed him—even though nothing could be further
from the truth!—

"Mayhap I’d be more inclined to consider your
marriage offer, O’Byrne, if you were willing to first prove to me your good
intentions," she challenged him. "But since I can’t imagine that you
would ever agree to such an arrangement—"

"Agreed."

She was stunned by how readily he had
answered,
her heart beating faster at the determined look on
his handsome face. For a man who was offering to marry her solely out of
obligation, he seemed bent upon . . .

Triona followed his gaze, horrified to see that her
hardened nipples were plainly visible beneath her sodden robe. Suddenly realizing
what he must be thinking, she flushed from head to toe.

So lust was driving him, the spawn! Obviously since he’d
taken advantage of her once, why should he bother now to control his baser
instincts? She met his eyes, growing even more flustered when she saw the heat
smoldering in those flint gray depths.

"You—you understand, of course, that just because
we’ve already . . . well, it doesn’t mean that—"

"I won’t force myself on you again, if that’s what
concerns you," Ronan said tightly, regretting the concession immediately.

Yet he wouldn’t wait forever. A few weeks should be
more than enough time to convince her that he’d meant what he said about taking
her just as she was—sheer madness though it may be.

"Get some rest, Triona. We’ll be planning our next
raids in the morning. With so many Normans flocking to join King John, there
should be manors aplenty left poorly guarded and ripe for plundering. De Roche’s
castle in Kildare could even become a target—"

"De Roche?"

"Aye. He may have escaped our vengeance until King
John sails back to England, but at least we can ravage the bastard’s home—
if
enough of his men leave for Dublin
and make the risk a small one."

Triona was so astonished that Ronan was already
including her in his
plans,
she said nothing more as
he left the room. It was Aud who finally broke the stillness.

"So we’re staying, sweeting?"

Triona shot her a frown, hearing little disappointment
in Aud’s voice. "For a time. But don’t fire your hopes just because Ronan
mentioned marriage. He’s still a beast, just as you said. Nothing has changed."

Except that now she would finally be able to repay him
for all the torment he’d caused her.

"You’d turn your back on him even if there’s a
babe?"

Triona hesitated, feeling a pain in her heart. But she
had only to remember the hated word
duty
upon Ronan’s lips, and she squared her shoulders. "Aye, Aud, even that
couldn’t make me marry him."

Chapter 19

A BRILLIANT SUNNY morning greeted Triona as she left
the dwelling-house. Conn trotted at her side, and the stronghold was already
alive with the sounds of children laughing and playing, dogs harking, and
people going about their work.

"Go, Conn." She gestured to the dogs chasing
each other near the kitchen. "Go and play, too."

As the wolfhound bounded away, Triona flung her arms
over her head and stretched. She had slept much later than she had planned.
Surprising considering she hadn’t expected to sleep at all after Ronan had left
her. But exhaustion had overcome her.

She felt fine now, though. Well rested, well fed, a
hasty breakfast of oat bread and honey warming her stomach. And she was more
than eager to exercise her newly regained freedom. She had even gone to Ronan’s
room to enjoy the reaction her leather jerkin, shirt and trousers might have
upon him, but he wasn’t there.

Nor had his monstrous bed looked slept in, making her
wonder if he had stayed up all night drowning his misery in ale. No doubt since
he had asked her to wed him, that stone around his neck had grown all the
heavier.

"I hope it chokes him," she muttered, making
her way to the feasting-hall where she imagined Ronan and his men were
gathered. Aye, if he thought her a burden now, just wait . . .

"Triona!"

She tensed as Niall left the hall and made straight for
her. She suspected he might be angry with her over the other day, but he was
smiling broadly. In fact, his eyes were fairly dancing.

"You look well this morning, Triona."

"And you look very pleased about something, Niall
O’Byrne."

"Can’t I look pleased to greet the woman my
brother has asked to wed?"

Triona didn’t know why she felt so stunned. Of course
Ronan would have told Niall. Probably Maire, too. Yet it made her feel more
than a bit embarrassed.

"Ronan asked me, but that doesn’t mean I’ve
accepted," she said stiffly, deciding she’d say no more on the unpleasant
topic. She brushed past Niall, but he caught up with her and fell in step.

"That’s
true,
indeed,
Triona, but at least you finally have your wish. I heard that you might be
riding with us."

"Might?" Triona shot him a sharp glance. "I
fully intend to. Is that brother of yours in the hall?"

"Aye, with our clansmen. He asked me to come and
fetch you. He thought you might want to hear our plans."

"So I do, but I’m amazed Ronan can consider
strategy at all after drinking through the night."

"Drinking? What makes you think he—"

"His bed wasn’t slept in, Niall. Not even touched.
Where else could he have . . .?" Suddenly she stopped cold in her tracks,
a fierce pang ripping through her. Niall had the most curious smile on his
face.

"There’s no other woman if that’s what you’re
thinking, Triona. Ronan’s moved into another dwelling-house. He thought you
might prefer that for now—given everything that’s happened."

Her cheeks flaring hotly, she couldn’t answer; she
stormed instead for the hall.

Of course she didn’t care in the least if Ronan had
another woman . . . ten women! Twenty women! It would be a good thing if he
did. He might have said he wouldn’t force himself upon her, but that didn’t
mean she believed him. She’d seen that hungry look in his eyes-

"Triona, wait!"

She paused at the doors as Niall again caught up with
her. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his expression very serious.

"I just want to warn you that not everyone is
pleased you’ll be riding with us. Ronan has always allowed his men their fair
say in clan matters, and this time is no exception. Many of them are arguing
that raiding is no fit calling for a woman, but home and hearth—"

"You think this is something new to me, Niall? I
may have been Fineen O’Toole’s daughter, but I had to prove myself first to his
clansmen to ride with them. Hunt with them. Why should things be any different
here?"

She turned around and shoved through the doors, not
surprised when the boisterous din of laughter and conversation abruptly ceased.
Her eyes swept the large room. She spied Ronan almost at once near the fire,
his dark riding
clothes
and his black hair impossible
to miss. And though her heart had begun to beat faster, she squelched the
tingling of excitement just at seeing him again.

Boldly Triona proceeded to the front of the hall,
ignoring openmouthed stares and grumbled asides as she reveled in the freedom
of movement her trousers gave her. If there had been a crucifix handy she would
have sworn before them all that she’d never wear another gown, not if she had
anything to say about it!

She saw that Ronan was frowning, too; she supposed he
had guessed her thoughts and it made her smile. Her smugness seemed to irritate
him. But when he spoke, his voice was calm. Almost too calm.

"I’m pleased that you’ve decided to join us,
Triona. But I regret to say that my view is not shared by everyone."

"Aye, Lord, it’s not a woman’s place to be adding
her voice to our plans!"

Triona spun, facing a carrot-haired giant who’d hauled
himself from his seat to challenge her. "I’m sorry. We haven’t had the
pleasure of meeting . . ."

"Flann O’Faelin, miss, and it’s no insult I’m
giving you to say you’re not welcome among us."

"Then take it as no insult, Flann, when I remind
you that there are women warriors aplenty in the ancient tales—"

"Aye, but you don’t look to me like a warrior, a
wee thing like you," added another brawny clansman who thunked down his
cup of ale as he arose. "A woman as fair as you would only be a
distraction."

Triona snorted. "You might serve the O’Byrne
better to stay at home, then, if you’re so easily bewildered."

Robust laughter erupted around the hall. Triona saw
that Ronan’s frown was as deep as ever.

"Mayhap you O’Byrnes might do better if you told
me why you really don’t want me to join you," she continued, undaunted
though every eye was upon her. "You’ve said it’s not a woman’s place, that
I’m too small, I might distract you—"

"All that, and we’d be worrying for you every step
as if you were a wife or a daughter!" interjected a stout, full-bearded
clansman. Many others seconded his outburst with resounding "Ayes!"

Triona, however, wasn’t perturbed by the noise. "Well,
it’s flattered I am that you’d be concerned for me, but I’ve already proved I
can ride as long and as well as any of you." Feeling her face growing
warm, Triona quickly decided not to elaborate. "And I’m fully capable of
taking care of myself—"